


The Promotion

by ColetheWolf



Series: Smutty Drabbles [23]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Facials, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Rough Oral Sex, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21701200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/pseuds/ColetheWolf
Summary: After Sheriff Stilinski doesn't get the promotion he wants, Stiles takes matters into his own hands and meets with his father's douchebag boss.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Smutty Drabbles [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1117635
Comments: 12
Kudos: 202





	The Promotion

It wasn’t outside of the normal routine for Stiles to come back from school to find his father settled in the living room, lounged back on the couch whilst watching some boring National Geographic show. So naturally, it caught Stiles’ attention when he strode in through the front door and found his dad sitting at the kitchen table instead—head in his hands, looking as dreary as ever.

“Hey, daddy-o!” Stiles chirped. “What’s up with the sadness?”

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about.” John said unenthusiastically. “How was school?”

Stiles scoffed, rounding the kitchen table and taking a seat across from where his father was already seated. “Nice try, but I really wanna know what’s up.”

John scratched at the back of his neck. “I just—got passed up for the promotion I thought I was going to get. It’s fine. I just have to put in some more work.”

“Ugh—!” Stiles rolled his eyes. “It’s _Hale_ again, isn’t it? He’s purposely fucking you over again.”

“Come on, Stiles—watch the excessive language.”

“Sorry, but seriously. That guy is always doing his best to make your life a living hell. He knows that you’ve been with the Beacon Hills police department longer than any of the other deputies there—Parrish, Raeken, no. You have seniority.”

John sighed. “As right as you are, that’s just the way life works sometimes.”

Stiles didn’t try to push the conversation any further, because it was obvious that it was over. As tough as a man as his father was, he knew when to admit defeat. But Stiles didn’t play that kind of way. Stiles liked to push and battle until he got what he wanted…and the only thing that he really wanted was for his father’s superior down at the station to stop being such a fucking dickwad all the time.

“Ah, I forgot—I’m supposed to be the one who drives Scotty to work today.” Stiles announced. It was a huge lie, but his lie-detector of a father didn’t seem to notice. Or he _did_ notice and just didn’t care because he was so lost in frustration.

Once Stiles got back outside of his house and into his jeep, he set course for the local police station where his father worked. It took ten minutes before he pulled into the parking lot. He slid into a vacant parking spot and switching off his engine, hopping out of his jeep without even taking the time to fully grasp onto what he was about to do. All he knew was that he was fuming and ready to unleash years and frustration towards the unseen force that was his father’s boss.

Stiles had always heard about “Hale”, but he had never met the dude. He never even heard his father mention the man by his first name. Even when Stiles took the time to visit his father at the station for a quick lunch break, Hale was always tucked away inside of his office—behind closed doors and curtains. The only thing Stiles really knew for certain was the sound of Hale’s voice, which was usually charmingly snobbish and demanding. It also sounded like it belonged to somebody very punchable, as far as Stiles was concerned.

When Stiles stepped into the police station, the receptionist greeted him with a casual, warm welcome—considering he was the son of the station’s favorite deputy. But as for all of the other deputies and staff workers, none of them noticed. They were all far too busy rushing around and handling papers, practically high out of their minds on caffeine that barely helped ease their own tiredness.

So it was easy for Stiles to stroll through the station until he got to the back of the building where Hale’s office was located. As per usual, the door was shut and all of the window blinds were shut tightly to keep any prying eyes from looking in. There was a metal plate screwed onto the front door, “Sheriff P. Hale”, and Stiles immediately tried his best to figure out what P-names fit the man he was about to meet.

“Poindexter…. _fucking_ Pissbaby Hale….” Stiles mumbled.

Stiles turned the handle of the door and walked in—blurting out in exacerbated shock at the sight that crashed into his field of vision. Mr. P Hale was standing in front of his desk, slightly leaned back against the sturdy wood. All the while, Deputy Parrish was down on his knees in front of where Hales’ suit pants were unzipped—enthusiastically bobbing around and gagging on the cock of his own superior.

Stiles was completely lost for words, so much so that he didn’t even catch himself instinctively stepping completely into the expanse of the private office. He shut the door behind himself, fearing that others would see or hear what was going on. And somehow inside of Stiles’ mind, he was scared that _he_ was the one that was going to be in trouble. Or that he was going to be the one to suffer at the hands of secondhand embarrassment.

Eventually, Hale carded is hands through Parrish’s hair and held him tightly in place—clearly shooting his load down his deputy’s throat. Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off of the action. He just stared—mouth agape, nervous sweat beaded at his forehead, cock unintentionally twitching in his own pants. And then Parrish casually stood up and wiped the corners of his lips, thanking Hale for the opportunity and consideration.

For what? Stiles felt as though he had it figured out and that the reason his father didn’t get the promotion was because he wouldn’t put out.

Parrish turned around and walked out of the office, nodding ‘hello’ to Stiles as he passed by. It was casual and not plagued by the secondhand embarrassment that Stiles feared so much to encounter. At the same time, Hale just remained leaned back against his desk, cock dripping wet and still incredibly hard. He paid no attention to where Stiles was standing, but instead watched as Parrish fully exited the office and shut the door behind himself.

“Are you here to submit an application for the open deputy position, young man?” Hale asked smugly, shifting his stance just a bit so that his out and proud cock gave a twitch in Stiles’ direction.

“What—? No. What the fuck?” Stiles babbled, looking over his shoulder to see if the door had truly been closed behind him. He eased forward into the room and drew closer to where Hale was standing. All of the anger that Stiles had charged into the station with had been replaced by confusion and arousal—all of which Stiles tried desperately to hide.

“Then I’m going to have to ask you to politely see yourself out.”

“Fat chance.” Stiles retorted, pulling back his previously misplaced anger. “I’m Stiles.”

Hale just looked confused—his eyebrows furrowed in such a way that made Stiles want to elaborate. “Am I supposed to compliment your parents on their decision to name their son something completely ridiculous?”

“Just my father—yes.” Stiles crossed his arms, trying not to look down to Hale’s lingering erection. “My father, the guy who’s been a deputy here for a good fifteen years, who has seniority over any other deputy here, and the guy who you passed up for promotion all because he wouldn’t get on his knees for you.”

“Ah, you’re Jonathan’s son.” Hale crossed his arms.

“ _Ah, you’re Jonathan’s son.”_ Stiles mocked childishly. “Yeah, I am his son—and both he and I know how to report you for sexual harassment, you sleaze bag.”

Hale laughed. “Report me for sexual harassment to whom? I am the sheriff, after all. But don’t be mistaken, I’m perfectly happy to take down any complaints you might have—but on account of that bulge you’re sporting there, kid…I don’t think you have many.”

Stiles blushed, covering up his crotch. “So you admit you fucked over my dad cause he didn’t suck your dick.”

“Actually, I’ve never asked your father for anything more than a cup of coffee. He’s way too goody-goody and not my type.” Hale revealed. “See—Parrish, the young man you just saw swallow me down without issue—he’s more my speed. And I have a few more handsome deputies running around these halls who’d drop to their knees for me at the snap of my fingers—Raeken, Whittemore, Mahealani, Dunbar….”

“That’s—that’s fucking insane.” Stiles tried to blink away his own disbelief, but Hale’s cock was still right there….staring at him, drooling precum down to the floor.

“Come to think of it, I actually think that you’d make a fine deputy yourself.” Hale noted smugly. “You seem like you’re quite eager to be trained.”

Stiles felt his chest tighten and his cheeks flushed hot with an obvious blush. He shifted his weight around and tried to get comfortable, but he couldn’t help but be entranced by his father’s boss’ charm. The man exuded some kind of swagger that was unmatched. He was confident, not just in his power, but in his looks. And for a man who looked to be at least forty—he wasn’t anywhere near bad to look at.

“I wouldn’t.” Stiles asserted boldly, crossing his arms and solidifying his stance. “So you can put that hope to bed and keep it there—it’s comatose.”

“Well that’s a shame.” Hale clicked his tongue. “See, your father isn’t getting the promotion, not matter how much he wants it. I hate to say it, but I just don’t think he actually has what it takes. But that’s not to say that I can’t be persuaded into acting against my better judgment.”

“Meaning…”

Stiles knew what he meant.

“Meaning—if you can do something for me, perhaps I can do something for your father.”

It was twisted and so, so, so wrong on so many different levels. And yet, Stiles’ heart skipped at beat at what he considered to be a chance of a lifetime for his father. He had to restrain himself from screaming out his agreement to Hale’s lewd proposal. But Stiles knew that if his father had the chance to be a sergeant, he’d be happier. He’d make more money. And he’d get to actually enjoy his profession so much more.

Stiles swung around on the heels of his sneakers and faced the door. For a moment it seemed like he would actually toss the deal to the wind and leave, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked out the door’s blinds to see if anybody would interrupt what was about to happen and then swung back around to face where Hale was still standing at the front of his large desk—smug as ever than he was about to get his way.

“And if I—what? Suck your cock? You’ll give my dad the promotion he deserves?” Stiles asked, balling up his fists in anticipation as to Hale’s answer.

“Do I look like the kind of man that’d cheat somebody out of a fair deal?” Hale asked, grinning.

Stiles rolled his eyes and dropped his backpack down onto the office floor. He looked over his shoulder once more to where the door was closed, just to make sure that nobody was about to catch him in the act of sucking a stranger’s cock. Plus, he really didn’t want his father to be known as the sheriff with the slutty son that sucked a dick to get his father a promotion.

Stiles made his way over to where Parrish had been knelt down—slotting himself in-between Hale and a couple office chairs. He took a moment to really wrap his mind around what he was about to do, but if he was being honest—his mind was already made up. Stiles knew that he wasn’t going to back out. For one, he didn’t want his father to miss out on his promotion. And for two, there was a flicker of pure lust that raged deep inside of Stiles’ body, lust specifically geared towards Hale, and Stiles wanted to act on it....he needed to try it.

As Stiles dropped down to his knees, he caught sight of a metal placard that was resting atop Hale’s desk. In fat black letters, the placard read ‘Sheriff Peter Hale’. And finally, Stiles knew the fucker’s name. But what was even worse was that ‘Peter’ was an attractive name, especially when it was attached to one of the smuggest guys ever. Stiles didn’t really know what kind of spell was coming over him, but he really just wanted to chant Peter’s name over and over again in the midst of ecstasy.

“So—a blowjob.” Stiles muttered to himself, reaching out to take a firm grip of where Peter was nice and hard, despite already cashing in a load down Parrish’s throat.

“It’s called a blowjob, dear.” Peter remarked crudely, cradling the back of Stiles’ head with one of his hands. “You just bring those beautiful lips of yours around the head of it, take it into your mouth—”

“—I fucking know what to do, asshole.” Stiles barked.

“Ah, who would have thought that John’s precious son knew his way around a nice dick?” Peter breathed. “I figure you’re not a virgin.”

“I don’t know. You can tell me after I’m done.” Stiles scoffed, taking Peter into the warmth of his wet mouth. He instantly took up an eager rhythm—bobbing back and forth on Peter’s length, taking every last inch of the man’s dick without hesitation and without panicked confusion.

Of course he wasn’t a virgin. Stiles had sucked off _two_ different guys before, but none of which were guys that he had actually wanted to blow. The first time was after a rather pitiful date and the second time was after getting plastered at some lame dorm party. But for a moment, Stiles paused inside of his own head to question as to whether or not something was seriously wrong with him for actually _wanting_ to blow a man twice his age.

Stiles roughly took Peter down to the root with a hungry jolt, smashing his nose hard into the man’s crotch. But he kept the position for just a moment, letting Peter’s girth properly stretch out his throat. It wasn’t until not being able to breathe became a serious problem that Stiles pulled back with a loud and messy pop. He gave Peter’s dick a handful of firm strokes whilst he caught his breath, staring up from underneath heavy lashes to watch Peter’s face fill with amazement.

“You’re looking kind of shocked there—” Stiles rasped cockily, but was immediately cut off as soon as Peter stuffed his cock back into Stiles’ mouth and down his throat.

“Normally I’d appreciate the conversation, but I don’t want you distracted from keeping that pretty mouth of yours where it’s most useful.” Peter chuckled.

Stiles huffed loudly out of his nose in annoyance, letting the bluntness of his teeth lightly scrape against Peter’s girth. It was Stiles’ clever way to fire off a warning in Peter’s direction. After all, the man was the sheriff of the city, but Stiles was a certified cocksucker. And if Peter wanted to get off with pleasure, rather than pain, he’d cut out the shit.

“Mind your mouth, Stiles.” Peter critiqued casually, tugging harshly at Stiles’ hair the moment that he felt the boy’s teeth press against his cock. “You do want your father to get that promotion, don’t you?”

Stiles swallowed his pride, rolling his eyes. “Yes.” He admitted.

“Good—you wouldn’t want all of this hard and skillful work of yours to go to waste.” Peter commented, running the pad of his thumb down across the bottom of Stiles’ plump lip. “You’re a sensible young man. I suppose the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Peter was infuriating. His narcissistic arrogance dug itself deep under Stiles skin, but there was something about his ability to take control of the situation that made Stiles’ body flutter. There was some kind of magnetism that Stiles just didn’t want to fight. He wanted to feel it wash over him and take him, repeatedly.

Stiles went back to sucking Peter’s cock. He swirled his tongue around the leaking cockhead, lapping up all of the precum that drooled out and onto his tongue. At the same time, Stiles worked his hand over the extra length of Peter’s cock that he didn’t fit inside of his mouth—pumping it firmly in his grasp to squeeze out all that Peter had to offer.

The occasional enthusiastic moan from Peter let Stiles know that he was doing things correctly. It really wasn’t surprising. Stiles knew that he was talented with his mouth. Everybody always called him a motor-mouth due to the fact that he never shut up—but Stiles was almost certain that nobody would call him something so stupid had they been on the receiving end of one of his blowjobs.

“Good boy.” Peter cooed, thrusting his cock deeper into Stiles’ mouth. He drew immense satisfaction from the squelched gagging sound that choked out from the boy at his mercy. “You were certainly made to swallow cock, weren’t you?”

Stiles didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not with such a mouthful. But he did let his heavy eyelashes flutter shut so that he could really focus on gathering his strength and talent. Everything that Peter pumped into him, Stiles delivered it right back with his talented tongue. And all of the moans and dirty talk that slipped from Peter’s lips worked as fuel, which dumped straight into Stiles’ tank.

“I’m close.” Peter breathed, tapping at the side of Stiles’ face.

Immediately, Stiles pulled back from where his lips were wrapped around Peter’s girth. At once, Stiles wrapped both of his hands around the slicked-up rod that was throbbing directly in his face. He picked up an eager rhythm as he stroked Peter’s cock—giving a slight twist of his wrist with each upward stroke. Sporadically, Stiles also thumbed across Peter’s cockhead, coating his own thumb with precum, bringing about shivers throughout the older man’s body.

“Are you going to cum for me, sir?” Stiles asked, looking up to where Peter was returning the gaze with an equally as lustful expression. “I want it, sir. Blow it all over my face.”

The use of the word ‘sir’ seemed to push Peter right over the edge. _What a button to push_! Stiles didn’t find it surprising whatsoever. After all, Peter Hale seemed like the kind of man that got off to younger dudes respecting his age, status, and power. And of course Stiles was right. Because at the drop of the second ‘sir’, Peter’s body gave a startling jolt and his cock blew out the first stream of hot cum.

Stiles didn’t close his eyes as Peter’s load shot across his face, despite running the risk that he could end up with an eyeful of jizz. That was just a risk Stiles knew that he had to take, because he wanted to watch Peter fall apart. So Stiles kept himself knelt down and continued to jerk his father’s boss off with hungry might.

Shot after shot of hot cum blasted against Stiles’ flushed face. He stuck his tongue out as far as it could manage so that he could catch a few rogue spurts of Peter’s seed. At the same time, Stiles brought one of his hands down to his own jean’s zipper and undid it—reaching into his own pants and boxers so that he could pull his own throbbing erection free from its confines.

As he jerked Peter through an orgasm with one hand, Stiles brought about his own orgasm with his other hand—stroking himself carelessly and absolutely wild, chasing the release that he could feel boiling deep inside of his balls. And then just as Peter’s orgasm started to wane and his heavy spurts of cum drew more and more infrequent, Stiles’ balls tightened and his cock pumped out a hefty load.

Stiles’ load splattered down onto Peter’s nice leather shoes and the tapered cuffs of his undone trousers, but Peter didn’t notice. Not because he didn’t care, but because Stiles’ hand was still working him over—despite the growing oversensitivity. The speed of Stiles’ tugs had diminished, but he gently squeezed and pulled at Peter’s shaft—forcing the last drop of cum to dribble out.

“I think—you’d make a fine deputy yourself, Stiles.” Peter breathed heavily, looking down to where Stiles’ face was coated and dripping with cum. He took special notice to where Stiles’ tongue remained out and streaked with pearlescent white globs. “Are you sure you won’t take up the offer?”

Stiles swallowed down everything that he had caught on his tongue, offensively smacking his lips. “Nice try.”

Just then, the closed office door clanged open. Stiles immediately twisted around from where he was knelt down on the ground so that he could see who had just stepped into the room to catch him in the act of blowing Peter—face drawing whiter than the cum streaked across his skin upon seeing just who it was.

Jonathan Stilinski. His father.

“Congratulations, Stilinski—” Peter greeted John, not even trying to hold back his satisfied chuckle as he analyzed the stone-shock that had befallen John’s face. “—your son's just scored you a promotion."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Any comments and critiques are much appreciated in the comments down below! Thanks! :)


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